


to the moon and back

by EmeraldSage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Astronauts, Blini and Waffles, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Rusame Secret Santa 2020, grad school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:15:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Long distance relationships could be hard.  It could be painful, and lonely.  But there was so much good in them, too.  So many good memories shared, so many precious days.  Knowing you’ll see each other soon.  Counting down the days.  Treasuring every minute you have together.Alfred reminds himself of that, often.  His life is good.  Not easy, but good.  And in the particularly lonely moments, he counts every mile that keeps them apart.  But he doesn’t ever think he’ll regret it.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 31





	to the moon and back

**Author's Note:**

> Hi graceadee! I'm your backup Secret Santa for the Rusame Secret Santa 2020 Event! I chose to respond to your Astronaut AU prompt, and I kind of went a little overboard lol. I hope you like it!
> 
>  **Prompt:** Astronaut AU, one of them is in space and one is on Earth - super long distance AU.
> 
>  **Notes:** The amount of research I did on how astronauts keep in contact with their families on the space station was probably unnecessary. But damn was it fun. [Alfred (24), Ivan (28) at their first meeting in Spring] Suspension of homophobia please. And Coronavirus.

Sleep was a strange thing, here. Tapping idly on his tablet’s keypad as he waited for his phone to connect, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes, Ivan wondered if he would ever get used to the odd, but necessary experience. Certainly, he’d been prepared well enough to sleep through the odd experience, but it always struck him as strange. He supposed he was well enough adjusted to his schedule that the oddity of it all was negligible.

And, well - he glanced out the closest viewport, smile curling on his lips - he would adjust to anything for this.

This, at least, was one experience that never got old.

There was a click as the call connected, and a sleepy voice slurred, _“H’llo?”_

His smile widened, “Did I wake you, _zolotse?”_

There was an abrupt clatter, and a crash, followed quickly by vicious swearing, and Ivan snickered. It was always the same response whenever he caught his lover this early.

Finally, the clatter ceased, _“Ivan?”_ his partner’s voice came through, a little crackly but a welcome sound. He’d been particularly busy over the last week and hadn’t had much opportunity to call home.

“Good morning, _dorogoy,”_ he said, amused, “I take it you missed your alarm again?”

His love huffed, _“Not this time,”_ it was sulky, and Ivan’s lips quirked, _“There’s a two hour delay for some really bad ice on the roads that no one was expecting.”_

Ivan felt his brows raise. It had to be really bad if they were willing to give students a delay. Massachusetts and the majority of the Northern United States had a different standard of _problematic_ when it came to snow than the rest of the country.

“Will you be alright getting to work, then, Alfred?” he asked, a thread of concern growing within him. Alfred was a solid driver, but he _hated_ the cold that came with winter. And the ice could get pretty bad.

Alfred sighed over the line, _“It should be fine,”_ he said, _“They’re gonna have a truck come by and salt it again in an hour. Hopefully walking Waffles won’t kill me before they do the sidewalks.”_

Ivan thought of the number of unfortunate spills Alfred had taken when walking Waffles during the winter, “If you’re sure, _dorogoy,”_ he said, doubt threading through his voice. Natalia had sent him a compilation video once, before she’d put it on TikTok. Wait - speaking of which, “You won’t get a ride from Natalia?”

Alfred scoffed, still staticky but distinct enough Ivan picked up on it, _“Absolutely not. No way I’m waking her up at a godforsaken hour before the sun is up when she’s hungover. That’s an easy way to die.”_

Ivan’s eyebrows shot skywards, “Hungover?” he echoed. Natalia did drink, though nearly not as much as either of her siblings. He’d never seen her hungover before.

Alfred snorted, _“Her cohort had their holiday Christmas smash last night to celebrate the end of finals, she’s probably completely trashed. Did you forget we went to college together? I’ve seen her hungover in the morning once in my life. Never again, Ivan.”_

He snorted. He may have never seen Natalia hungover, but he didn’t know _half_ of what she and Alfred got into during their undergrad years, and he much preferred it that way.

Then he blinked, something pinging in his mind and he ran through the dates in his head. Time didn’t have the same concept in space, despite their rather intense schedules.

“They had a holiday party on _Thursday?”_ he asked, incredulously.

 _“Yeah, most of them took the day off today,”_ Alfred said, cloth rustling, and Ivan knew he’d moved to sit up against the headboard, tucking the blanket around him, _“or weren’t working. They planned for a three day weekend to celebrate.”_

There was a soft click on Alfred’s end, barely audible amongst the hint of noise in the background of their call, and Ivan could almost _see_ the way the lamp on Alfred’s side table flickered on. Could almost see the way the light blossomed, like a candle wick set alight, chasing away the shadows of the pre-dawn in the Northeast as it cast across the room illuminating its lone occupant with its brilliance. Wished he could _actually_ see it, the way the image bloomed in his mind, sharpening with the clarity provided by his memories.

 _“From what I got off of her Insta, they had a good time,”_ Alfred said, and Ivan watched the way lips curled into a smile in his memories. _“The group chat blew up last night, all my friends bemoaning that they have to wait,”_ Alfred snickered.

Ivan felt his lips tug downwards at the admission, “You haven’t gone out yet?”

 _“With my schedule?”_ his lover laughed, _“No way. We’re thinking about next Saturday, since we’re not technically done until then, but any other day is just unrealistic. It’s the unfortunate reality of being the unlucky sonovabitch who decided to teach in a public school full time while getting my doctorate. Comes with the four am alarm clocks, skimpy breaks, and the melodrama of high schoolers going through mid-puberty crises who don’t really care about making life easier when their teacher’s hungover.”_

Which was - practical, Ivan supposed. But he couldn’t help but feel that Alfred could certainly use a break. His lover worked too hard at everything he did, and exhausted himself.

“You could always take a day off?” he suggested lightly, not wanting to sound imposing and tread on the dragon’s tail that would be insulting Alfred’s fiercely independent streak.

 _“I’m saving up my vacation time for when you get back,”_ his lover said firmly, and he could all but picture the stubborn set of Alfred’s face, the fierce look in his eyes, _“I was thinking we could go on vacation after you get back. Travelling is super cheap in January, and I think the kiddos can spare me a few weeks once their midterms are done. Gives us some time to relax over the winter break and something to look forward to.”_

Ivan felt the smile unfurl on his lips almost unconsciously, “That sounds like a plan,” he said softly, warm down to the core. A few weeks to relax, and then another few weeks undisturbed by the holiday socializing to spend just with Alfred.

 _“Yeah?”_ Alfred’s smile was in his voice, bright and happy and warming down to the bone, _“A couple weeks watching it snow, eating too much pie, and reminding you to do the laundry when you forget it’s your turn. Then we’ll go somewhere warm.”_

It sounded lovely. Lovely and relaxing, and after six months in the perpetual chill of space - even in the temperature controlled space station - it was something he was more than ready for.

 _“Mmm, that’s Waffles calling,”_ Alfred hummed, as the unmistakable sound of a dog barking excitedly came across the line, followed by the sheets being pushed back as Alfred pushed himself to his feet, _“Looks like I’ll have to hop off.”_

Ivan sighed, the twist of wistfulness and anticipation for next time already coiling in his veins, “I’ll try and call you soon, _dorogoy,”_ he said, softly.

 _“Looking forward to it, star boy,”_ his lover returned, grinning, and then the line cut.

He sat there for a long moment, listening to the dial tone, eyes sliding half-shut as he pictured what would happen next. Alfred would stumble out of the bed, nearly tripping over an exuberant Waffles, Blini jumping up to wrap himself around his partner’s shoulders as the party of three made their way into the kitchen. Thought of the soft slant of gray light seeping in through the blinds as Alfred fed their companions, setting the coffee maker to its chore before vanishing into the bathroom to get dressed. Tripping on the mat as it got caught in the door again, singing obnoxiously loud in the shower with no one to hear him, and nearly jumping out of the tub when Waffles started howling along with him. Maybe Alfred would have enough time to take Waffles out for a longer walk this morning, once his usual routine was done, since school was delayed. Yes, that was likely. Even if Alfred hated the cold with a vociferous passion, Waffles somehow adored it.

They’d probably leave Blini at home, though. Especially with the risk of ice on the sidewalks, and Alfred as tired as he was. He’d make up for the cold with fresh hot chocolate with breakfast, though, Ivan was sure of it. He might even set some aside to drop off with Natalia later, to help her with her hangover. Ivan swore Natalia would commit murder for Alfred’s hot chocolate recipe.

 _Perhaps I should pen an email to Natalia,_ he mused, _check in on her, and ask if she’ll check in on Alfred._

Ivan was smiling long before he tucked his phone away, his thoughts leaving him wistful and nostalgic. He loved his work, there was no doubt about it. But he also couldn’t wait to go home.

**.**

_Waffles, the golden retriever puppy, had been a gift from his elder sister when he’d returned the second time from his six month long stay at the ISS. He’d stared at her, consternated, for a long while, until she released the little ray of sunshine to pounce on him, and then he had no choice but to look at the puppy she’d chosen._

“You need company while you’re at home,” _she’d asserted, the fierce, immovable gleam in her eyes telling him she wouldn’t budge an inch on this,_ “and Natalia or I could care for him when you return to work.” 

_Which they did, the first year. Leading to his tackle ambush by the now year-old golden retriever, who hadn’t forgotten his owner at all in the time he’d been away. It wasn’t until a month into his new routine with Waffles that he realized the tackle hug ambushes had become the retriever’s favorite way of greeting people._

_“Holy shit!”_

_Leading to this moment, where Ivan winced, offering his hand to the latest unfortunate target of one of Waffles’s overly forceful “let me love you” tackles._

_“I’m so sorry,” he apologized, gripping tightly to the winter-dry palm in his own hand as he pulled the younger man up and steadied him as Waffles jumped around them, barking exuberantly. “He’s a bit excitable, I’m afraid.” This was, unfortunately, not the first time Ivan had to apologize to someone about Waffles’s ambitious love attacks. It was usually a lot worse, especially when one of Waffles’s chosen victims was a stuck-up businessman who demanded he be reimbursed for his dry-cleaning costs._

_Thankfully, the young man Waffles had chosen this time only laughed as he brushed himself off. “Dude, no worries,” he laughed, shooting him a sunny smile that made Ivan feel oddly warm, “There are a lot worse things in life than getting knocked over by a pooch wanting some love.”_

_And then, the odd young man dropped to one knee, offering Waffles his hand and was almost bowled over again when the golden retriever attacked him with kisses. Even when Ivan was trying to tug him back._

_Laughing, the younger stood again, turning another smile to Ivan that gleamed in the gentle early spring sunlight. “He’s a sweet boy,” he said, offering this hand to Ivan this time, “I’m Alfred. It’s nice to meet you and your dog.”_

_He opened his mouth, just about to introduce himself, when something_ **_meowed_ ** _loudly from Alfred’s hoodie pocket._

 _“Ah, whoops,” Alfred laughed, raking a hand through his hair as he flushed, embarrassed, and a_ **_cat_ ** _poked its head out of the long pocket, eyeing Ivan with a pointed look that was almost unimpressed. Waffles was totally dismissed, even though he’d perked up at the sight of the cat, “And this is Blini.”_

_“It’s a pleasure,” Ivan said firmly, taking the outstretched hand, “to meet both of you.” He glanced first to blue - brilliant blue, like the summer sky, he thought - eyes and then pale green slitted ones. Blini tilted his - his? - head and meowed consideringly, and Ivan offered them both a reserved smile, “I’m Ivan, and this little menace,” he tugged on his dog’s leash, which did all of nothing to keep the golden retriever from settling his paws on Alfred’s thighs and peering curiously at the Russian blue, “is Waffles.”_

_Alfred’s face lit up with glee, and Ivan was almost dizzy at the sight of it. So bright! How could someone smile so brightly? That odd feeling in his gut intensified._

_“Blini and Waffles!” the younger man chirped gleefully, “They’re breakfast bros!”_

_Ivan snorted, but smiled, shaking his head. Of all the things..._

_“Um, so, speaking of breakfast,” Alfred flushed, glancing off to the side before looking back to Ivan, “Would you, maybe, want to grab coffee or something?”_

_Ivan blinked, connecting the flush, the bright smile, and the warm feeling in the pit of his stomach, before he offered the younger man another smile, “I would love to.”_

_Of course, grabbing coffee turned into grabbing brunch. Which then turned into grabbing dinner two days later. And drinks the day after that. Ice cream near campus, after class a week later. Running into each other on their walks again at least three times amidst it all._

_Friendly chatter turned to marathon texting. Showing up all over each other’s social media. Shoving the barstools a little too close to each other at the bar. Stealing each other’s spoon and eating straight from the cup. Waffles tangling them both in his leash and toppling the four of them into the creek - which Blini protested to. Loudly._

_“I really like you,” Ivan said, one evening as they walked down the street, munching on corn dogs with the roar of the baseball game echoing in the background. Ivan wasn’t too sure how much he liked the corn dog, but he’d finally straightened out that he really liked the younger man he was sharing it with._

_Alfred grinned, “Well, I’m glad,” he laughed, “Considering I’m pretty far gone in the same direction, big guy.”_

_They slowed to a stop, lingering in the shade of some trees in the nearby greenspace. Ivan turned over the words in his head, still not sure how to open this particular discussion, no matter how necessary it might be._

_Alfred found his words first, cocking his head just a bit as he studied Ivan, concern lighting his eyes, “Is something bothering you?”_

_“I -,” Ivan faltered for a moment, thoughts churning, before he took a deep breath. No going back now. “I told you I worked for NASA, yes?”_

_Alfred blinked at him, sensing the turn of mood but not quite sure of the reason for it, “Yeah, a few dates ago. I don’t think you told me what you did though,” he added._

_“There was a reason for that,” Ivan said, shifting a bit to lean against the tree, “I’m - well, I’m an astronaut. A science officer. I work on the International Space Station.”_

_Utter silence. Alfred was just_ **_staring_ ** _at him._

_“I’m bringing it up because, well,” Ivan took in a deep breath, “I really like you. I would like to see where our relationship will go. But I take regular missions, and I’ll be up at the station for a good part of the year. For a lot of holidays, too.” His voice stalled, unable to finish his explanation._

_“You’re talking about long distance,” Alfred noted, after a long moment of silence, head tilted slightly as he studied Ivan. “For our relationship, I mean.”_

_Ivan exhaled, “Yes.”_

_Alfred was quiet for a long, nerve wracking moment, before he turned to look Ivan straight in the eye. Quiet but sincerely, he said, “Well, I can’t say it’s something I’ve got any experience with. But I don’t see why we can’t try.”_

_The shock of relief that flooded his body was so buoyant and uplifting that he was almost lightheaded._ **_Thank god,_ ** _he thought. He could’ve maybe said “let’s be friends,” if Alfred didn’t want to try long distance, but it would’ve hurt him inside for a while. There was something here, between them. It was something good, Ivan was sure of it. They just had to do their best to make it work._

_Alfred offered him a shy grin, unusually uncharacteristic of the bright and sunny man, but Ivan returned it with a warm smile of his own._

_“So, big guy,” Alfred continued, linking their arms together, his voice warm, “tell me about what it’s like in space.”_

**.**

It’d been the end of a bad week, when Ivan had called. Bad week, bad _month,_ god, whatever it had been, it’d been stressful.

It’d been an endless stream of classwork, homework, teaching, grading, and making nice with his colleagues and his professors when all he wanted was a _fucking nap._ Forget the last few years, it was like this semester had decided to say _fuck it,_ and threw him straight into the deep end. It wasn’t enough that all his classes were abruptly ten times more intensive, or that he was coming up on the most important part of his research, or that all his AP Physics kids had been shoved into one class, so instead of two moderate classes of twenty kids, he had a nightmare calling itself fourth period.

_He loved those kids, honest to god. But they were going to take over the world one day with their chaos, and he was going to let them as long as they let him sleep._

It wasn’t just all the havoc of his life being multiplied so abruptly. It was also _everyone in his life_ who was suddenly being difficult. Or maybe, was it him being difficult? He didn’t know. He was just tired of it.

Right now, though, he was mostly tired of his coworkers, since that was the most pressing thing bothering him. He had to go into school today, after all.

He knew most people didn’t believe he was in a long distance relationship, didn’t believe he had a solid partner. But he would’ve thought that at least the people he’d worked with for going on _four years_ would have the decency to give him the benefit of the doubt!

Nope. Apparently not.

Because when the English teacher asked him out on a date, and he turned them down because _he was in a relationship,_ his uppity coworkers gossiped about how rude he was for _making up a mysterious partner_ in order to reject the date. That he could’ve just said _no,_ instead of inventing some random stranger in order to get the other teacher to back off.

But Alfred didn’t _need_ to invent a random stranger. Alfred was in a _relationship._ He had been for almost _three years._

Why was this so hard to believe? Hell, his _physics kids_ knew he had a partner. He was pretty sure they’d made a bet on who he was!

Not that he knew anything about that.

It was frustrating, in general, but what was worse was that it only made him feel more isolated. Being a young teacher, being a student, being in a long distance relationship that no one believed in… it was lonely.

Ivan’s phone call had made his day - hell, made his _week_ \- but now all he could think about was that his bed was too lonely. That the house echoed with how empty it was. That even with Blini curled up on his shoulders, and Waffles following along at his side, fur brushing against his legs, he felt alone.

That the kitchen table wasn’t set for two. There weren’t enough dishes to run the dishwasher. There was only one mug sitting on the dish rack, waiting to be reused and then washed anew. That all the snacks in the house were Alfred’s favorites, the ice cream in the freezer the one Ivan absolutely hated but Alfred adored, and that there was nothing for his lover because the other man wouldn’t be home for another two weeks at best.

And god, Alfred missed him so much.

He sighed, trying to push the thought from his mind, and refilled his breakfast boys’ food and water bowls. He smiled as Blini leapt off of his shoulder, landing delicately on the counter before hopping down to make his way over to his food. Waffles wound around him, seeking pets that Alfred gave him gladly, before bounding off for his own breakfast.

Alfred used the lack of animals to head for the bathroom for his usual morning routine, revelling in the shock of hot water that snapped him to full awareness and seemed to temporarily leech the exhaustion from his bones. Even before Waffles made his usual feature appearance to try and give him a heart attack.

Showered, dressed, and somewhat better prepared to face the day, he made his way into the kitchen to start breakfast. And a pot of hot chocolate. Maybe.

Blini had abandoned the kitchen at this point, probably heading to the basement which was far cozier than any of the rooms on the main floor. Waffles, ever the stalwart guardian and part-time goofball, followed him through the kitchen as the chocolate melted and the eggs cooked, wagging his tail as the toast popped out with a soft chime. Alfred smiled, scratching Waffles’s favorite spot right behind his ears as he bottled up the hot chocolate in two thermoses. One for him, and one for Nat. He’d drop it off at her place when he took Waffles out for his walk after breakfast. Hopefully she’d be less inclined to consider homicide if he did.

And making hot chocolate for two had gone a decent way towards easing some of the loneliness burrowed in his heart, however odd that sounded.

He sighed, as that thought sent his previous musings right back to the forefront of his mind. He really wasn’t looking forward to school today.

**.**

_He was still wearing the Santa hat from their yearly Christmas crew photo when he dialed a familiar number. It wasn’t yet late enough on the American Eastern Seaboard that he would be interrupting dinner, but perhaps he would be close enough that Natalia would’ve arrived. She always misjudged the length of time it took to drive down from Cambridge. Mainly because she drove inhumanly fast, and the traffic this close to Christmas was terrifying._

_The call connected, and a very missed voice came over the line,_ “Vanya, is that you?”

_He smiled, “Hello sister,” he said, feeling warm down to the bone as her familiar voice washed over him, “how are you?”_

_His elder sister laughed,_ “Oh, I’m well! It’s wonderful to hear from you, little brother.”

_He arched a brow at the phone, picturing his sister’s joyful expression, “I call at least twice a month, and email every week,” he retorted, “shouldn’t you be sick of me, sister?”_

_She laughed,_ “Never, Vanya.” 

_“Is it a good time, Katyusha?” he asked, double checking his tablet with the current time in New York City. He was used to the glare of the screen by now, but he could picture the old fashioned clock his mother had brought with her in their belongings when they’d immigrated to America, almost two decades ago. He brushed his fingers together, running them along the tablet, thinking of the grooves that had been carved into the wooden timepiece, creating an elegant design he’d never seen anywhere else. Katyusha had it mounted on her wall in her apartment, having inherited it when their mother passed away._

_“I haven’t missed Natalia, have I?” he continued, hoping he hadn’t._

_Katyusha laughed, immediately setting his mind at ease,_ “If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, then no, you haven’t. She got in a few hours ago, so I sent her out to get groceries.”

_A few hours? Usually Natalia ran late on Christmas Eve, given she had to leave in the early afternoon. She usually worked until the 23rd, leaving on Christmas Eve for the trip down, so she could take the week after New Year’s and celebrate the 7th with Katyusha, and Ivan if he was there. It was only four hours to New York City from Cambridge with decent driving conditions, but on Christmas Eve? It was a nightmare she bemoaned every year._

_He said as much, commenting, “She’s early,” unable to keep the tone of surprise from his voice, and his sister hummed, the way she usually did when she was biting back a smile, the corners of her lips tugging upwards against her will._

_Katyusha laughed,_ “That’s all thanks to her friend,” _she said, almost conspiratorially, and Ivan knew exactly which grin was on her face,_ “I think if he wasn’t making the trip down with her, she would’ve taken much longer.”

_“Natalia brought a friend?” he asked, surprised. He hadn’t known that Natalia was close enough with someone up in Massachusetts that she would bring home to meet Katyusha._

“Yes,” _his eldest sister laughed,_ “they’ve gone out to grab some last minute groceries, so I’ll introduce you when they get back. But apparently, Natalia met him in university, when she went for her undergraduate, and they stayed in touch for a while, before reconnecting when they realized they’d both moved to Cambridge for school. Her friend is apparently doing his doctorate at MIT.” 

_“Really?” Now that was a surprise. And an ironic one, at that. What were the odds that Natalia had a friend doing a PhD at MIT, and Ivan had a boyfriend there doing the same? He idly wondered if Alfred would know Natalia’s friend, before he pushed the thought from his mind. MIT had a vast number of post-graduate programs, it was unreasonable to even consider that Alfred might know some other doctoral candidate - unless it was in the same field? It would be one hell of a small world if it was. “Do you know what field he’s studying in?”_

“Well,” _Katya hummed, sounding an awful lot like she was laughing at him, and it made Ivan’s brows furrow,_ “he’s actually - oh,” _her voice startled, before coming back twice as amused,_ “speak of them, and they shall appear.” _He heard the echo of the door slamming shut in the background, and Katyusha’s voice faded a bit as she tilted the phone away from her, shouting,_ “Natalia, Vanya’s on the phone!” 

_There was a small commotion, and some murmuring that he wasn’t able to pick up. The soft tone of voices discussing something, a hint of laughter barely audible, before there was a rustle as someone reached to pick up the phone._

_“Natalia?” he asked, confused at the odd silence on the other side, before someone laughed. A familiar laughter that was decidedly_ **_not_ ** _Natalia’s._

“Guess again, big guy,” _a familiar, very much missed voice asked him, mischief filling it, and Ivan nearly dropped the phone._

 _“_ **_Fedya?!”_ ** _he demanded, once he’d caught his stunned, shocked breath. This time, the laughter wasn’t just Alfred’s, and from the quality of the audio, he realized he’d been put on speaker._

 _His lover laughed,_ “Surprise!” _he said._ “We live in one hell of a small world.” 

_He spluttered, “You- you’re Natalia’s friend?”_

_He could hear Alfred’s grin through the phone,_ “Best friend,” _he corrected,_ “we were neighbors in a co-ed dorm freshman year together, and just decided to share an apartment every year after that. I didn’t realize you were Nat’s Ivan until she broke into my apartment to demand why I hadn’t told her I was dating you.”

_For once, Ivan was speechless._

_Alfred’s voice was warm and delighted, and didn’t falter,_ “She invited me over when she realized I’d be spending Christmas at home, instead of shelling out to make the trip to Dad’s place for me and the breakfast boys.”

 _Scuffed footsteps came across the line, and then Natalia’s voice filled his ear,_ “At least you had decent taste with this one, Brother,” _she said, ignoring Alfred’s dramatic_ **_“decent? I’m only decent, Nat?”_ ** _whining in the background,_ “Make sure you keep him.” 

_Another scuffle, and the audio quality improved abruptly, indicating that the speaker had been turned off._

“She’s gone to help Kat with the groceries, since I’ll be helping her with dinner,” _Alfred said, when he finally came back on the line, and Ivan could hear his smile,_ “I still can’t believe you’re _Nat’s_ Ivan.”

 _A voice in the background shouted,_ “I _told_ you that Brother was your type!” _and Ivan laughed, especially when Alfred shouted back for Nat to_ **_shut up, don’t tell him about that!_ ** _He erupted into full-bellied laughter when Alfred actually dropped the phone and ran off to chase her down_

 _Ivan was still snickering when Alfred came back on the line, and said, pointedly and slightly out of breath from chasing Natalia around the apartment,_ “Don’t. Say. Anything.” 

_“Of course,_ **_dorogoy,”_ ** _he said, letting everything he could’ve said come across in the sheer amusement in his tone. Alfred huffed, and he chuckled._

_“Will you be staying long?” he asked, changing the topic, and hopefully taking Alfred’s mind away from plotting revenge._

“Just until after New Year’s,” _Alfred said, and there was some regret in his voice,_ “school comes back on the third, and they want the teachers in the day before to take care of administrative stuff. I’ll be missing the 7th, though.”

_“I’m glad you won’t be spending the holidays alone, at least,” Ivan admitted, picturing the way Alfred’s face would’ve softened at the admission. “Perhaps next year we’ll all spend the 7th together?”_

“Yeah?” _Alfred’s voice smiled, warm and like sunshine, just like him, and Ivan felt a smile of his own curl on his lips,_ “I’ll look forward to it, star boy.”

**.**

The day was going by quickly, and that was the only blessing he supposed he would get when every encounter with his coworkers was exactly as awkward as he predicted it would be. Thankfully, given he had classes almost all morning, he’d only had one communal meeting, and a handful of hallway encounters before lunch, where he’d sequestered himself with his personal laptop and McDonalds.

The existence of a McDonald’s drive through literally down the street from the high school was godsend, and Alfred refused to let anyone dispute that.

He killed a good twenty minutes of the hour long break just catching up on the various group chats and discord groups he was a part of, reacting or responding to messages whenever necessary. He even managed to send TikTok to Nat, who _might_ appreciate it now that she was (questionably?) not hungover.

He was also very notably ignoring the frequent messages from his cohort’s group chat about finding him a date for the class Christmas party. He was the only one going “dateless,” and none of them believed it was because he was in a long distance relationship.

His messenger beeped on his phone, the notification popping up on his laptop since the app was open.

_“C’mon Al, let us set you up with someone. It’ll be so awkward otherwise.”_

He scoffed, leaving it on read without responding. Hopefully they’d get the message at some point, though he wasn’t putting any money on it. They hadn’t figured out he was dating someone in the three out of four years he’d known them all, and he’d long since run out of fucks to give.

He sighed, closing out his messenger app, and looked to his desk where there was a framed picture of him and Ivan right before the first space launch they’d gone through together. They’d gotten one of the crew to take it at the beach house they’d all stayed at, the night before the launch. Ivan was in his lounge wear, appropriate for the Florida weather, having changed after the group photo, and Alfred was perched half on the fence they were sitting on and half in Ivan’s lap, grinning in contrast to the soft smile on his partner’s face. The picture next to it was more recent. It was him and Ivan, a few weeks before Ivan had to go into quarantine for his flight, wearing Hogwarts uniforms at Universal Studios. Alfred with his bright smile and Slytherin green, with Ivan’s Hufflepuff yellows and blacks right next to him, a long suffering expression that had earned the amusement of many of the park goers, including the ones who’d taken the picture for them.

They brought a smile to his face, effortlessly, even with the weight of exhaustion that had followed him through most of the last few months clinging to his shoulders. At the very least, he had something to look forward to.

Ivan would be coming home soon.

He pushed those thoughts out of his head when one of his seniors popped her head through the door, pushing it ajar, grinning when she noticed he was still at his desk.

“Hey, Mr. Jones,” she said, “do you have any time to go over the chapter review?”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling, pulling his copy of the review sheet towards him as she dragged over a chair to join him at his desk, “hop on over kiddo, let’s take a look at it.”

He threw one last look at the photo on his desk, and smiled, even as he pushed his focus towards his student. Soon.

**.**

_Ivan had never navigated decorating their holiday tree with a cat on his shoulder, but according to a snickering Alfred, it was something he’d have to adjust to. Blini had an opinion on where everything needed to go, and if it wasn’t done_ **_exactly_ ** _to his highness’s satisfaction, they’d wake up in the morning to a bare tree and boxes neatly repacked waiting for their attention. And no, they hadn’t figured out how he was doing that, either._

_Alfred had only laughed when he’d asked._

_A flood of warmth rushed through him, just thinking about his partner. He’d been back for a month already, and just as they’d decided, most of it had gone to the logistics of moving in together. But now he was here, spending their first holiday season together in their cramped studio apartment, putting up ornaments on their tree as he watched snow blanket the city around them._

_It was cramped, they were exhausted, and their pets combined forces to make life interesting for both of them, but god help him, it was_ **_amazing._ **

_Ivan settled another ornament onto the tree, nearing the final one, and Blini meowed his approval imperiously. He offered the cat an amused smile as Blini nuzzled his chin approvingly._

_Footsteps, muffled by fuzzy socks on hardwood floors, sounded behind him._

_“Has he finally agreed on something?” his partner’s amused voice floated over to him, just as Alfred slid up to him, hip checking him with a grin. Two mugs of hot chocolate, dotted liberally with marshmallows and a stick of cinnamon each, were in his grip, and he offered one to Ivan with a smile._

_He took it gladly, and laughed when Blini took the opportunity to abandon him in favor of his absolute favorite perch atop Alfred’s shoulders like some sort of furry parrot. The Russian gray sniffed at the hot chocolate before turning away, nose wrinkling in distaste, as Alfred snickered._

_“His highness has been quite efficient,” Ivan drawled, brushing a hand through soft gray fur as Blini settled onto his perch, before letting his arm settle around his partner, who leaned into him. Slotting into his side like he was meant to be there._

_“Hmmm,” Alfred hummed, “Don’t let him get a big head about it,” he said, snickering at Blini’s offended meow. Waffles, snoozing away in his bed across the room, opened one eye, as if to take in the chaos, before closing it again._

_Ivan snorted, bringing his mug up to sip at his drink, letting the rich chocolate sit on his tongue, smooth and velvety, before he swallowed it down. The warmth settled gently in his stomach, radiating outwards, and Ivan was content._

_They had Christmas dinner planned with Natalia, and Alfred’s older brother, Matthew. Katyusha had wanted to come, but she was an ER doctor, and she was on call this year since she’d taken last Christmas off. She would probably Face-Time them during dinner, or at some point when she went on break. The holiday season always was one of the busiest times of the year for the hospital. She did say that she would try to come up for the 7th, since Natalia had volunteered to host it this year at her own apartment._

_They celebrated Ivan’s 30th birthday just before the New Year, Alfred teasing him relentlessly about being an old man. Ivan kissed him to shut him up, and then kissed him again when the ball dropped, ringing in the New Year._

_It was a holiday Ivan would remember forever._

**.**

It was pitch dark outside, except for the faint light of the moon from behind the clouds. Even the normally brilliant glow of the street lamps were muted thanks to the snow storm wreaking havoc outside, the winds howling at a dull roar that lingered in his ears if he got too close to the outer walls of the house. Instead of dealing with it, he decamped to their basement den - it had been his pet project when they’d moved in, and now it was easily the coziest room in the entire house - and lit the fireplace. Waffles had joyfully followed him downstairs, curling up right in front of the grate, while Blini made the executive decision to plop himself in Alfred’s lap and refused to move.

Alfred only tucked the fleece blanket tighter around them both, reclining against the sofa behind him, and cracked open the bottle of hard cider he’d brought down with him.

It was Friday night, the groceries had been taken care of for the next week, dinner and leftovers tucked away in the fridge, and no work to do for the weekend. All he had to do was relax.

It had been a bad week. He rather thought he deserved this much, at least.

His phone buzzed, still on silent from the work day, and he cast a glance towards it, only to scowl. He took a swig of his cider, fingers clenching tight around the neck of the bottle, and ignored the buzzing.

It was his dad. Again.

 _“Honestly, Alfred,”_ his father’s voice rung through his mind, echoing their last, furious conversation together, _“you haven’t been home for Christmas in three years now! I understand maybe a year to spend it with your friends, but three? Even a paltry teaching salary should give you enough money to come home once a year. And why haven’t you? It’s not like you’ve got anyone to spend it with there. Even your brother’s making the trip this year - ,”_

On and on and on it would go. He’d never get off the phone without hanging up, and that would only piss off the older man, making him more persistent.

He ignored the buzzing. He turned on the TV instead, flicking through the channels until he got to one maybe ten minutes into the first Home Alone movie, and settled in to watch. Five minutes into it, his father seemingly got the message, and his phone stopped vibrating with the force of the back to back international calls. Then, he _really_ settled in and started watching the movie. Thought, for a fleeting moment, about making some popcorn.

And then fifteen minutes later, his phone buzzed again, his dad’s face flashing on the lockscreen, and he seriously considered blocking his dad’s number. He’d unblock it in a few days, but god, he just needed a _break._

Ten minutes later, he actually did. Headache throbbing anew at the constant, incessant vibrations from his phone that made him want to throw it halfway across the room. He didn’t - least of all because he’d gotten a call from NASA earlier that evening about a potential delay to Ivan’s return, like all the partners and spouses would’ve gotten, and he wanted to stay updated - but it was a near thing.

He scrubbed a hand across his face, pressing his knuckles against shut eyes as if it would help in willing the headache away. The sleeves - soft and smooth and long since beaten into submission by the washing machine - fell past wrist, almost extending past his fingers. Ivan’s sweatshirt, he remembered, catching the NASA logo embroidered on the sleeve cuff. When Ivan would leave, almost for the first month, wearing his clothes felt like being wrapped in an Ivan-sized hug. They lost the scent he associated with his lover after the first few washes, but they never stopped bringing him comfort.

He really could use that now, when the loneliness sat so heavily it sank into his bones.

Sometimes, the loneliness hurt. _God,_ he’d never realized how much loneliness could hurt before. Not until Ivan.

He’d known from early on that they’d be long distance. Ivan had told him, given him the reins, told him it was up to him. And he’d taken the chance, because he _wanted_ that relationship. Wanted the glimpse of the good thing it could be. They’d had their ups and downs, of course. Every couple he’d known did. But they’d worked things out. They’d worked out the kinks in managing a long-distance relationship where Alfred couldn’t call Ivan, couldn’t FaceTime him when he just wanted to see his face, or send him pictures at the drop of a hat whenever Waffles or Blini did something hilarious. Gotten through Ivan not being Alfred’s emergency contact, even when Alfred was _his,_ for practical reasons, and the suspicious stares Alfred would get whenever he’d mention his partner. They’d worked out _living together_ after a year of on-and-off long distance, decided that they needed to know if it would work long term whenever Ivan stopped going into space, thinking of _forever,_ and they’d made it work. They’d squashed into a studio apartment for six months, and argued and fought and made up, and _made it work._

Then, they’d bought a house together, because they could afford it so _why the fuck not?_ Because they were two guys, a rambunctious golden retriever and a haughty Russian blue, and maybe they weren’t the neighbors people expected, but they made that work, too. 

They made it work through every lonely moment, every rare, brutal argument that had one of them storming out the door, and every skeptical look they’d gotten at the words _long distance._ They’d made it work, because they were _worth_ every mile that came between them. Every single goddamn one.

And it was _worth it,_ god, it was so worth it. Every day he woke up to Ivan curled up around him, to that email in his inbox saying _“Good morning, zolotse,”_ or to the chime of his cell going off with the ringtone that told him the ISS was calling. Every time he woke up to Ivan making coffee for him, or fell asleep to Ivan grumbling at his laptop, or had to yell at Ivan to do his fucking laundry because even _Waffles_ didn’t want to go near that shit. Every holiday he would spend laughing with Ivan, goofing off with each other, burning the turkey on Christmas Eve, or with the man’s voice in his ear, telling him stories and sending him pictures with the most ridiculous holiday themed decorations spread across the ISS. Every coffee date, vacation, morning walk with their pets - everything that made that warmth coil inside his chest, made him smile without realizing what he was doing, made him utterly in love and ecstatic in the knowledge that he _wasn’t the only one._

Every midnight dance in their backyard under the stars, every snowball fight that ended with Ivan catching him before he could slip and trip into a snowbank, every time he checked his email to find another picture of the Earth suspended amongst the stars that reminded him of why he was doing his PhD, of something that connected them both, of something so old and yet so lovely and new and -

Something only they would share.

But sometimes… sometimes the loneliness hurt. It wasn’t always bad, not all the time. It certainly hadn’t started that way. Sometimes it was just an ache, ever present, as he went through his day. Lingering, but he could ignore it, _did_ ignore it. He could smile at the thought of his partner some two hundred miles straight up, looking down over the world like a watcher protecting them all. He could feel the ache without the emptiness that followed. But sometimes, that ache was like a cavern being carved into his heart, the emptiness swallowing him whole. Making him helplessly aware of the _lack_ in his life. Of the person missing. Waking up without Ivan, making breakfast or lunch or dinner only for one. Watching the stars knowing Ivan was up there, walking amongst them, where he couldn’t go. Walking around, going to bars or cafes or meeting up with friends, getting that condescending, indulgent look when he said _“my partner couldn’t make it,”_ and leaving early to go sit in the park and watch the stars. Before going home to his empty house and his empty bed, forcing himself to go to sleep so he could wake up and do it all over again.

God, the loneliness _hurt,_ but it only hurt so much because he knew how good it could be. How _happy_ he was. How even in the depths of the loneliness he knew it wouldn’t be forever, because he was lonely but he wasn’t _alone._

His email notification pinged - the private one, the one only Ivan and his superiors at NASA had, so Alfred would never miss anything from them - drawing him from his thoughts. The movie played on in the background, Kevin ducking into the nativity scene to hide as the Wet Bandits drove past. But he ignored that, and unlocked the phone to check his email.

Only to soften, impossibly warm, when he realized what the email was.

It’s a picture of the Earth, as it usually was. Only, this picture held a glimpse of North America. He picked out Florida’s distinctive peninsula, the inward curl of the Gulf of St. Lawrence, just north of Maine. He couldn’t see the twist of Rhode Island or Nantucket, though. Only the massive swirls of fluffy white that indicated the snow storm currently bearing down on them.

The caption read: _watching it snow._

He felt the helpless smile come to his lips, the same one Ivan could always bring out of him whenever he’d done something stupidly romantic or reassuring without realizing what he’d done. He saved the image to his phone, to the folder in his gallery specifically for all the pictures Ivan sent him, and knew without saying a word that this one wouldn’t be up on twitter for Ivan’s PR account.

This one was just for them.

**.**

_“You liked the picture, then?” he asked, knowing the answer already from the excitable email he’d received from his partner earlier that day._

“Of course I did,” _Alfred said, and Ivan could all but picture his beaming smile, the image sending a thread of longing that soaked into the core of his being. Soon, he told himself. He’ll be home soon._ “Your PR agent will love it even more,” _his love laughed,_ “I keep getting gushing emails from her about how often you send her things to tweet. Keeps asking me how I do it.” _Ivan’s lips quirked. It was a commonly known fact amongst his crewmates that if he sent pictures home by the dozens._

_“I wonder what she would think of the ones she hasn’t seen,” he mused, thinking of some of the best photos he’d taken, the ones he and Alfred kept between them. Alfred laughed at the thought._

“Poor thing,” _Alfred cooed, amused at the thought of it,_ “she’d be devastated. They run your Twitter account as a ‘Pictures for Home’ kind of thing.” 

_Ivan smiled. It was true, after all. His twitter handler had thought it infinitely sweet that he sent so many pictures down just so he could share something of his life with his lover, and had turned it into the main feature of his account. Which had promptly earned itself a fairly strong following, thanks to the quality of the photos and the sappy captions that both he and Alfred would take turns coming up with._

_He hummed, “What are you up to, darling?” he asked, changing the subject, settling himself into his seat._

“Just doing some reading in bed,” _Alfred said, biting off a yawn at the end,_ “just for fun. It’s Saturday tomorrow, so I might sleep in a bit if the breakfast boys don’t wake me up.” 

_Ivan snorted. Like that would happen with those two._

_Alfred snickered, as if hearing his thoughts, and then hummed,_ “But what are _you_ up to, big guy? You’ve got a whole lot more going on that I do.” 

_Ivan considered, “Would you like me to tell you of my day?” he asked._

_He could almost see the way Alfred smiled, “Do that,” he said, “I want to know more about what you’re doing. Only what you can tell me, obviously.”_

_Ivan huffed a laugh, and agreed. He spent almost an hour of his downtime telling his fascinated partner about his day and his work, watching the Earth hanging amidst the starry backdrop of the endless abyss of space through the viewport. He wasn’t at all surprised when, pushing the hour mark, Alfred’s breathing started to even out, and deepen. Soft snores, barely audible, made their way through the speaker._

_He smiled, soft and warm, and wished his partner a soft good night before he hung up the phone, reluctant though he was. He could’ve sat there for hours, but he had to sleep as well. And Alfred’s phone bill would thank him, come the morning._

_He felt his lips twitch, remembering the first time Alfred had gotten his phone bill after Ivan had gone up to the station, about a month into his mission. The horrified shriek had been particularly memorable._

_The warmth of that memory sinking into his bones, he moved to slip into his small bunk and get some sleep. He drifted off to sleep, the thought of home never leaving his mind._

**.**

A week after the snow storm blew through the city, Alfred’s phone went off in the middle of a heated discussion during his final seminar class of the semester, the familiar chime of Ivan ringing him that had him excusing himself in a rush, ignoring the disapproving look of his professor and the curious ones of his classmates. Instead, he bolted half-way down the hallway, to a little unoccupied nook, and swiped to answer the call.

“Hello?”

 _“Alfred,”_ Ivan’s voice came across the line, as clear as it ever was, and there was warmth and a hint of sheepishness in the tone, _“I’m sorry, dorogoy, I know you were in the middle of class.”_

Alfred’s lips curled upwards, not quite a smile, but enough for him, “Don’t worry about it, star boy,” he teased, “what’s up?” Because there had to be something that had Ivan calling him off the schedule.

There was a moment of silence, heavy and weighted, before Ivan sighed, _“I’m sorry, darling, I’m afraid it’s not particularly good news,”_ he said, and Alfred could feel his heart sinking into his stomach, like a knotted weight in his chest. _“There have been a few readings that have come back odd regarding the shuttle. The station is running a few more tests, but isn’t sure we’ll be able to depart tomorrow for home.”_

Alfred pushed away the surge of devastation, thinking instead of the danger that had been brought up, “Is there something wrong?” he pressed, concerned, pushing away the horror that something might go wrong in favor of the worry, “Do you know when you’ll find out?”

 _“Hopefully by tonight,”_ Ivan said wearily, _“the crew that came in is settling in, so there’s not much for us to do while we’re waiting for the results to come back. We’re not sure what’s causing the issues though, so it might take longer.”_

For a moment, there was only silence. Silence and exhaustion and a loneliness so strong it threatened to swallow him whole. _Another month at least,_ his mind whispered back to him, devastated, but he pushed it aside.

 _“Solnyshko?”_ Ivan’s voice was soft, but concerned, and it occurred to Alfred that he’d been quiet for a beat too long.

“I’m here,” he said, voice equally as soft, eyes squeezed shut tightly as he tried to center himself. Tried to refocus on the world that needed him now, rather than the loneliness that grew and hurt at just the thought of the news Ivan had brought him. His optimism so worn down after the last grueling six months of work and classes and persistent condescension from his friends and family alike that he didn’t even consider the hope of the shuttle being ready by tomorrow for its trip back home. “Sorry babe, I’m just a little tired.”

_“Have you been sleeping, Alfred?”_

Alfred laughed, “Probably not nearly enough,” he admitted tiredly, not in the mood to make the usual excuses, “But the semester’s almost over, and there’s only a week and a half left of classes for my kiddos, so don’t worry too much, yeah?”

 _“Alfred…,”_ Ivan trailed off, but his tone was almost stern. Alfred felt the corner of his lip quirk, a desperate attempt at a smile his body was simply too exhausted to fulfil.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, forcing his voice to be as even and reassuring, knowing that Ivan would worry regardless, but hopefully he would worry a little less this way, “It’s just been a long week.” He took a deep breath, “Anyways, I’ve got to go, big guy. I’ve got class still, and my professor was giving me the evil eye when I walked out. I’ll talk to you later?”

There was a pause, and he knew Ivan was frowning, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed as he tried to puzzle what was setting him off - Ivan always knew when something was wrong, _always_ \- before the astronaut sighed, _“Of course, dorogoy,”_ he said, _“I’ll send you an update as soon as I’m able.”_

Alfred _did_ manage a smile this time, “Thanks Vanya,” he said, letting his eyes slide shut, leaning against the wall of the nook he was hidden in, “Love you.”

Ivan’s voice was warm and bright against the chill of loneliness, and he said, _“I love you, too, zolotse.”_

He curled the warmth deep in his chest, wrapping it around his heart like a shield and forced himself to walk back to class where the rest of his world waited for him.

**.**

Ivan stared at the phone in his hands for a long while, jaw clenching and unclenching as he worked through the call. Mind darting through all the signs he’d noticed - had been noticing - and finally relaxed, sighing.

Instead of tucking away his phone, though, he tapped out another number, waiting for it to connect to the number on the other end.

 _“Hello?”_ a startled voice said, _“Ivan, is that you?”_

“Da, hello Matvey,” he said, “I’m sorry if I startled you.”

 _“Oh, no, it’s fine,”_ he could hear Matthew wave off the apology, _“It was just quite the surprise to get a phone call from the ISS.”_

Ivan chuckled, “That is understandable,” he said, and it was true. It wasn’t like Ivan made it a habit of calling Alfred’s brother. They emailed often, especially during hockey season, since they shared a love of the sport though disagreed - emphatically - on the teams they supported. But it was a rare occasion that would see Ivan actually call the other man.

 _"Is something wrong?"_ Matthew sounded worried, and Ivan sighed.

"I'm worried about Alfred," he admitted, getting right to the point, the worry churning in his gut, "He sounded exhausted on the phone. Quiet, reserved almost. It wasn't like him."

Matthew sighed, _“Dad’s been bothering him again, you know,”_ he said, voice exhausted in an eerie echo of his younger brother’s, _“He still doesn’t believe Al’s telling the truth about you.”_

 _Oh, honestly,_ Ivan scowled, just because he hadn’t _met_ the Kirkland-Bonnefoy parents didn’t mean he didn’t _exist._

 _“He’s been trying to convince Alfred to come home for Christmas,”_ the Canadian continued, _“Since he’s got ‘no one at home.’”_ He said it in the precise, condescending tone Ivan knew Arthur Kirkland often utilized when talking about things he disapproved of, _“He’s even offered to pay for it, since he never approved of Al working full time as a teacher while doing his PhD.”_

Ivan winced at that. His Alfred was a prideful creature, putting himself through his PhD with a fellowship from the university, multiple scholarships, and the money from his full time job going towards paying his expenses. He knew from the lengthy rants that had come before, that this was a common area of conflict between Alfred and his father.

He sighed, “Just one thing after the other these days,” he said, thinking about the exhaustion in his partner’s voice, the wistfulness. He thought about his own nostalgia, his own powerful desire to be _home_ that had only grown stronger the closer they’d come to departure. “Thank you, Matvey.”

 _“Of course, Ivan,”_ Matthew said, and he could almost see the other man smile, reserved but warm, _“Keep me updated, will you?”_

“Da, of course.”

 _“Good. Best of luck then, Ivan.”_ And with a click, the line disconnected. He sighed, but had barely moved to put it down when it rang once again. One of his crewmates, perhaps.

 _“Hey Ivan,”_ one of his fellow crewmates said, and he could hear the grin in the other’s voice, _“They just got confirmation on the shuttle. We’ll be good to go down in the morning.”_

Delight surged through him, and he thanked the other before hanging up, but hesitated in redialing Alfred’s number. Instead, he flipped through his partner’s schedule in his head, remembering the fond tone of amusement that colored Alfred’s voice whenever he spoke of his AP Physics class and the upperclassmen that made him laugh. The only ones who believed that Alfred had a partner, and made wildly outrageous guesses as to who he was and refused to let Alfred tell them the answer.

If the shuttle would be ready, if they were going down tomorrow, then he would be home just in time for Christmas. In time for a Christmas _surprise._

He opened up his email, fingers tapping at the edge of his tablet, and plotted.

**.**

It was only a few days before Christmas, almost a week and a half after that last call from Ivan, when things changed. Alfred was mid-fourth period with his AP Physics kids - they were his favorites, though he’d never say it out loud - when someone knocked on the door. He called out for whomever it was to come in, but didn’t move.

He could hear the door creaking open, but didn’t turn away from the board, keeping his focus on the smooth glide of chalk against the board as he wrote out the assignment for his class. Likely as not, it was probably one of the few students walking in late. If it was a teacher or someone else, they would say something.

At least, that’s what he’d thought, until the students behind him gasped, murmuring to each other excitedly. He thought he even caught someone saying, _“Oh my god, that’s_ **_him,”_ **which made him concerned enough to turn towards the door, frown twisting on his lips, words on the tip of his tongue.

“Can I help y-,”

The chalk dropped.

His students quieted in an excited hush, but he didn’t even notice. All his attention was honed in on the man that had just walked into the room.

 _I’m dreaming,_ he thought, dazed, _I have to be. He can’t be in my classroom._

Fingernails dug into his palm as one fist clenched, the pain a dull ache, but real. Which meant that _he_ was real.

 _Ivan_ was standing just inside the classroom, the door slightly ajar behind him, with a bouquet in one hand. Ivan who was supposed to be up in space, with the delay from the shuttle.

Ivan who was here, smiling sheepishly, voice soft, saying, “I’m sorry I’m late Mr. Jones,” and Alfred didn’t realize he was half-way across the room until he was there.

 _Real,_ he thought. _He’s real._

The bouquet was fresh red roses, wrapped in white ribbon, with a single sunflower framed in the middle. Without a second thought, he plucked the sunflower from the bouquet and reached up to tuck it behind Ivan’s ear, brushing the hair back to let it settle.

“You’re lucky I can’t give you detention,” he said, ignoring how his voice cracked. He pulled his hand back, but didn’t get far before Ivan caught it, ever so gently, with his free hand.

He pulled it back to him, letting his lips brush against the back of Alfred’s hand, in the barest trace of a kiss, and grinned at him, “And here I thought I was your favorite.”

And Alfred laughed. Laughed, heart warm and full of joy, loneliness banished at long last, and said, voice hoarse, “In your dreams, star boy,” before Ivan pulled him into a kiss and Alfred didn’t care to think of anything else anymore.

Ivan was here. Ivan was _home._

His kids, bless their hearts, broke into cheers. A particularly vindictive looking, beanie clad teenager - one of his office hour regulars - shouted, “Take that you fuckers, I won the bet! That _is_ Ivan Braginsky!” causing at least half the cheers to morph into groans.

Alfred had a fleeting thought that he should probably be concerned about that particular statement - and all it implied about his students’ odd awareness of his dating life - but at that moment, he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

Well, not entirely.

He pulled himself away from Ivan, angled himself towards his students, projected his voice out, and said, “I’m going to step out for a second,” and then, in response to the wolf whistles, he rolled his eyes and said, _“Just a second,_ brats. Lys,” he nodded at the beanie clad teeanger who’d won the bet-he-knew-nothing-about, “you’re in charge. I’d appreciate a lack of anarchy when I get back.” He pushed himself and Ivan out the classroom door and closed it soundly on the loud _whoop_ that followed.

Anarchy wasn’t even close to what would be breaking out inside that room right now, but at least he had plausible deniability.

Ivan was watching him, a faint smile playing on his lips as he leaned back against the bay of lockers lining the wall next to his classroom. Alfred felt his own helpless smile curl on his lips, “Hey handsome,” he smiled, “you were a surprise.”

Ivan’s smile widened, “A good one, I hope?”

“When did you get back?” he asked, instead of responding, and Ivan’s lips quirked. Ivan was still holding his hand. “I thought they’d delayed your return flight.”

“They thought so too,” Ivan said, thumb brushing idly across the knuckles of the hand he had captive in his own, “But they cleared us quickly enough that we were able to leave the day after I called you. I had to stay for a while, just for debriefing and such - but I asked them not to say anything.” Ivan tugged Alfred closer, “I wanted to surprise you.”

“It was a good surprise,” Alfred said, curling closer to his partner, letting himself be enfolded in that warm, well-missed embrace, and returning it with twice the strength. “I’m so glad you’re home.” He swallowed, eyes suspiciously wet when he blinked, “Love you.”

“I love you,” Ivan breathed, voice curling in his ear like the countless hours Alfred had spent listening to it with the phone in his ear. But it was _real_ now, Ivan was home. Ivan was _here._ The warmth wrapped around him, soaking into him, was proof enough.

“To the moon and back?” Alfred asked, voice wet and only half joking, but his eyes were soft and his grip tight. 

Ivan shook his head, offering him a secret smile, and whispered, “I love you much more than that.”

And that was enough. That was all he needed, when the loneliness threatened to swallow him whole. To love each other, to the moon and back. And to never let go.

**.**

_“To the moon and back,_

_I’ll love you more than that.”_

  
**end.**

**Author's Note:**

> The fluff monster (Usagi323) sent me the song "Moon and Back" by Alice Kristiansen when I gave her a summary of the story, and _wow_ is it terrifying how many feels that gave me for this work.


End file.
